


Faraway Memory

by Prussian Joltik (Twilight_Joltik)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, split POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Joltik/pseuds/Prussian%20Joltik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy tries not to dwell on the past too much, but sometimes it's impossible not to. For instance, it is hard not to be reminded of Holy Rome when Germany complains about how he can't draw. Likewise, Germany attempts not to acknowledge the odd things he feels around Italy sometimes, but that voice in his head is rather noisy. Split POV one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faraway Memory

**Author's Note:**

> The POV changes at the break. First is the whole story told from Italy's POV, and then it's told again from Germany's.

_Faraway Memory_

Generally, Italy tried not to think back on his childhood too much. It wasn't as if he didn't cherish the time he'd spent with Grandpa Rome, or wasn't glad that he had people like Hungary and Holy Rome, but he preferred not to dwell on the things he'd lost.

It was impossible not to think of those things sometimes, though. Sometimes he'd be drawing and remember how he used to spend afternoons painting with Grandpa Rome, or think how something he was eating tasted like Austria's cooking, and those memories would float up to the surface. Usually, he'd just get nostalgic more than anything, but on occasion it would hurt.

One of those painful occasions had seemed to arisen.

As he often did, he'd decided to spend the lovely afternoon drawing, and as he often was, Germany was by his side. Italy liked it when Germany would watch him draw, even if he usually didn't say much.

Usually had been broken today, as while he sketched the dappled patterns of white clouds overhead, his friend let out a very pointed sigh that made him look up from his work.

"What's wrong, Germany?", he questioned, and was met with an embarrassed glance away.

"It's nothing," Germany insisted, and after a moment, in which Italy had gone back to drawing, added "I could never draw like that" under his breath.

Was Germany… jealous? That seemed to be one of the highest forms of praise his friend was capable of giving, and he half wanted to go run and find Japan to celebrate the compliment. Instead, though, he put his pencil down and shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure if you practice a whole bunch you could be as good as me someday," he told Germany with a smile.

"I've tried," he flatly stated with a scowl. "Everything I draw looks like crap."

"It's okay!", Italy quickly assured him, taking hold of his hands for emphasis. "I can teach-"

He stopped. A flash of something from the past, the voice of a boy insisting the rabbit he'd drawn was junk came back to him, and a flash of guilt struck him as well. He'd tried to teach Holy Rome how to draw once, right?

"Italy!" He was called back to the present by Germany's shout, but not entirely. For just a second, he heard a different voice calling that name.

"Oh, sorry G-Germany!" Italy forced himself to say that name and had to try very hard to stop it from coming out as "Holy Rome". "Haha, I was just going to say I can teach you how to draw. You know, if you want…"

Forcibly, Germany broke free of his grasp and looked off in the distance, like he was studying some building nearby. "No thanks," he quietly replied after a moment of staring into the distance, and in that moment, Italy couldn't take his eyes off of him. Sometimes, and he'd thought about this before, Germany looked rather like Holy Rome, and he sort of wondered if maybe Germany might know him somehow.

"What? What are you staring at?" Germany's shout snapped him out of his pondering.

"Nothing!", Italy quickly insisted, but he could feel Germany's steely blue eyes piercing through him and his body quaking in response.

After a moment, Germany narrowed his eyes and yelled "Well, clearly something's on your mind, so tell me!"

Italy took a deep breath. "Uh, well, I was just wondering…" He'd never really talked to Germany about his childhood, and bringing up Holy Rome to him seemed like a terrible idea. The question was stuck in his mind, though, and he had to know its answer in the faint chance that it was the one he sought.

"Did… did you ever know a country called the Holy Roman Empire?", he forced out as quickly as he could.

It seemed like forever until Germany answered, and he did so with a shake of his head. "Sounds familiar, but no."

His heart dropped and he suddenly regretted asking. "Oh, okay then…", he muttered, and returned to sketching the sky. The clouds had shifted a bit, and the ones covering the sun were glowing with a heavenly light.

Staring at the sky, and back at the paper, he couldn't help but wonder if Grandpa Rome was up there right now, looking down at him. And Holy Rome, as much as he hated to think about it, was surely somewhere up there as well.

He'd really hoped Germany would have said that he'd known Holy Rome, or even better, that they had been good friends. Then, maybe that pit of guilt that welled up inside of him whenever he thought of Holy Rome nowadays would go away.

Though he tried not to dwell on the past, he couldn't help but wonder as he looked at the sky what Holy Rome must be thinking, looking down on him from up there. Did he hate him for offering to give Germany the drawing lessons they'd once shared? For the fact that those feelings only Holy Rome had made him feel before were starting to show up when Germany was around? That deep, burning, pounding feeling- the one people called "love", did Holy Rome hate him for feeling that for someone else now that he was gone?

* * *

Germany sort of liked watching Italy draw. The way his hand would move across the page and leave a perfect graphite stroke in its wake was rather impressive, and he envied that ability sometimes.

As the clouds in the sky took perfect shape on paper, Germany let out a sigh. He could run circles around Italy in most aspects, but this was the one thing that he couldn't even pretend to be superior at.

"What's wrong, Germany?", his friend suddenly asked, and his head turned away from the paper.

He couldn't help but look away. If his lack of talent in drawing was embarrassing, having it known he was insecure about that was doubly so. So, he quickly stated "It's nothing."

Italy resumed his art, and as the pencil imitated the shade of the sky perfectly in monochrome, Germany added under his breath "I could never draw like that."

After the words left his mouth, Italy turned to him and shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure if you practice a whole bunch you could be as good as me someday," Italy assured him with a grin, and Germany was rather mortified he'd actually said that out loud.

As kind as they were, Italy's words were factually false. "I've tried," he flatly stated with a scowl. "Everything I draw looks like crap."

"It's okay!", Italy cried, and before Germany could so much as blink, he'd grabbed his hands. Red started to burn through his face, but he seriously doubted Italy noticed. Besides, he could hardly hear Italy over the beating of his own heart. Why was it doing that, anyways? It was Italy; holding hands was normal for him and practically meaningless and why did he feel like he wanted to scream?

Then, Italy stopped mid-sentence. He looked rather distant and oddly melancholy in a way that made Germany worry. "Italy!", he forcefully cried, trying to snap him back to reality.

"Oh, sorry G-Germany!" Something in Italy's words sounded oddly forced and still far away. "Haha, I was just going to say I can teach you how to draw. You know, if you want…"

An odd fantasy started to play in Germany's head, of the two of them drawing together on a hillside. He'd be doing terribly, and Italy would take his hand and try to show him how it was properly done. It felt oddly nostalgic, but the way his heart kept beating fast was really starting to freak him out. Germany pulled his hands away from Italy's and forced himself to look… well, anywhere but at Italy.

"No thanks," he softly replied. He refused to think about such things any longer. That little voice that wanted him to turn back to Italy and- no, he wouldn't even let it finish that sentence!- needed to shut up.

And suddenly, he became very aware that Italy refused to look away from him. It wasn't helping to silence that voice, and he loudly questioned "What? What are you staring at?"

"Nothing!", Italy insisted, but Germany knew he was lying. Italy didn't shutter like that over "nothing". He looked back at his friend and tried to figure out what it was he was hiding. Another worry about him leaving him for another friend or something, maybe? Or- no, Italy would never suspect that Germany kept feeling so strangely around him, right?

"Well, clearly something's on your mind, so tell me!", he yelled, and Italy took the sort of deep breath one took when they were about to tell a long story.

Though he prepared himself for a long-winded speech about why Italy was worried about whatever it was, he was met with a question. "Uh, well, I was just wondering… Did… did you ever know a country called the Holy Roman Empire?"

That name, it sounded so familiar, but he couldn't give it a face. Had Prussia mentioned him, or had he read about the guy somewhere? No, it felt more personal than that, but he had absolutely no idea why.

The best answer he could muster was "Sounds familiar, but no," and even that felt wrong.

"Oh, okay then…" Italy sounded so disappointed when he said it, but Germany couldn't come up with where that name had come from. As Italy went back to drawing, Germany continued to wrack his brain for the name, but still found nothing.

He did know the Holy Roman Empire, though, even if he didn't know he knew it. He knew Holy Rome as that voice in his head that wouldn't shut up. The one that had cried out whenever Italy had taken his hand over, the one that reminded him what a good friend Italy really was whenever he started to question why he kept him around, the one that melted whenever Italy would greet him with a hug or a kiss on the cheek.

That voice he so desperately wanted to listen to, the part of him that adored Italy and made all the other parts of him feel the same, that was Holy Rome.

**Author's Note:**

> Ehe, this was the very first thing I ever wrote for Hetalia. Like, I wrote it less than two weeks after first watching it. Despite that, I had an idea, so I wrote something despite not being entirely certain of the characterization. Looking back, I did it pretty well for my first time. Really, I just wanted to explore how Italy might feel once he grew up and fell in love with someone other than Holy Rome, and how exactly Germany and Holy Rome co-exist. So Holy Rome is just a little voice in Germany's head who insists upon being with Italy, or maybe that voice is still Germany, but the part of him that remembers his previous life. Thank you for reading~!


End file.
